


Battle of the Mental Images

by Naatta



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi (2107), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: F/M, Force Bond (Star Wars), Kylo dressed as Han, New Clothes, One Shot, Rey dressed as slave Leia, Shopping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-16
Updated: 2017-12-16
Packaged: 2019-02-15 18:16:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13036713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naatta/pseuds/Naatta
Summary: Never try to think on changing your enemies wardrobe choices while force bonded. It will get you into trouble every time.





	Battle of the Mental Images

Battle of the mental images (a sexual comedy)

“What are you doing?” A familial male voice brushed over her mind as she looked over the burgundy fabric in her hands. She tried to ignore the black human shadow standing just over her shoulder and practically looming over her with his sheer height.

“Trying to buy some new clothes.” She said flatly, giving him no more information on the subject, grabbing another fabric, this one a deep mossy colored green.

“The red one’s better.” He offered, a simple statement as neither encouragement, nor insult. She looked at him, a man who cast no shadow (as he wasn’t actually there), hands tucked behind his back, looking at the items in her hand.

“I like the green one.” The brunette said, holding it up to the light.

“Then get it. It’s your money.” He drolled, black eyes staring off at something in the distance, probably looking at something on his side of the connection. “Waste it how you want.”

With an exaggerated sigh she held the burgundy fabric up in the light. Damn it he was right, it did look better. Begrudgingly she put the green one back and paid the vendor, who had said nothing about the woman who’d just then been talking to herself. She put the cloth in her bag and flung it over her shoulder, staff in hand as she weaved through the marketplace, her mind’s shadow following her.

“Don’t you ever wear anything but black?” She asked him, her question seeming to cut him off guard.

He steadied the hiccup in his stride and kept up with her. “Sometimes I wear gray. Once, my cape was blood red on the inner lining.”

She tried to imagine him in such an ensemble and shook her head. “I can’t see it.”

Heading to the docks her mind seemed to be stuck on this topic, wondering what kind of things her mind mate might look good wearing. Her thoughts put him in several outfits: a basic storm trooper, a general’s uniform, it kept her busy all the way up the gangplank of the falcon until she passed the wookie growling something at BB-8 as it and R2 loaded the ship with supplies. Kylo didn’t see him, or if he did, he didn’t say anything, but a thought struck her. Pausing mid step she looked back at the wookie, trying to imagine Kylo dressed in fur like one. The image looked ridiculous and she had to contain her laughter as she scuttled aboard and towards her bunk.

“What’s so funny?” He demanded his tone sharp and agitated. “I can feel the humor radiating off of you.”

“Nothing, just a funny mental image, that’s all.” She admitted behind closed doors. Pulling the tunic from her bag she spread it over her bunk to really look at it, enjoying the small pleasure of having the money to actually buy something nice like that. She heard him scoff from his spot in the corner, killing her mood. “What now?”

“Leave it to a scavenger to consider that rag ‘nice’.” He grumbled. “If you’d taken me up on my offer I could have given you whole wardrobes of clothes if you wanted.”

She rolled her eyes and sighed, putting her things away and hopping up on the bed, crossing her legs into a meditative pose and letting her eyes slip closed. “I don’t need wardrobes of clothes, Ben. Now go away, I’m going to meditate for a while.”

“Meh.” He grumped, but said nothing else. She could still feel him, moving about his space on whatever ship he was on, finally sitting in a chair and watching her through their bond.

It was annoying the snot out of her. “Ben, I can’t concentrate with you watching me like that.”

“Stop calling me Ben.” He grumped, but still refused to let the connection close. He was curious about something, and it was itching at her like a hair up her nose. “What was the mental image you found so funny?”

Rey cracked an eye open to look at him, leaning forward with his elbows resting on his knees, watching her. If she didn’t know him as well as she did, she’d have almost been flattered as how intently he watched her. Finally she shrugged and looked him in the eye. “Your head on Chewie’s body.”

His eyes narrowed at the thought, growing irritated at how the edges of her lips twitched with humor. “That’s not funny.”

“Would you prefer C-3PO’s body instead?” She couldn’t help the grin sweeping over her face, her fingers digging into her knees to keep from laughing.

As if on command her mental image of him changed, shifting to fit her mind’s eye. His body, still in that position but made of shiny gold metal with only his human head and mane of black hair still remaining. She snorted, especially when he looked down. Apparently he could see what she saw, which just made him madder.

With a brush of his hand, like dusting off dirt he made the image fade away, back to his normal attire, glaring his black eyes at her. “I said it’s not funny!”

“I’m sorry,” she admitted. “Truly, no one deserves to look that bad. I just wondered what you looked like not wearing black.”

“I think you’d look good in black.” He said, pointing down. Rey looked at her person to see herself wearing black clothing near identical to his own. The idea killed her humor and nearly made her sick. In her minds eyes she stood, doing the same brushing movement and removed the clothing choice from her person, returning it back to her own usual sandy brown tunic and pants. In rebuttal she flicked her hand and threw an image at him. He looked down to find him dressed in traditional Jedi robes much like his uncle Luke had.

He made a disgusted face. “Not my style. Never was.”

“How about this then?” She threw another image at him, shifting him to black pants and a grungy white shirt, complete with dark vest and a blaster at his hip. His father’s clothing style.

Dark eyes seemed to get even darker as he looked down and tried to remove the idea but couldn’t seem to pull it loose, Rey’s own hand outstretched towards him to hold it there. He snarled and threw one back, her clothes turning to a high collared white linen dress, she could feel her hair shift this time too. Reaching up she touched two buns, one on each side of her head and turned to look in the small mirror hanging on the wall. “What’s with the hair? I look ridiculous!”

“You made me look like Han. I made you look like Leia.” Kylo said simply, darkly amused. “He said she wore that hair style when they first met.”

Rey tried to pull her hair free from the buns but they were stuck like that. She glared at him, releasing her grip on his image to try to fix her own. She could feel him move closer, keeping a grip on her like she had done him. She finally got the hair to come free but by then he was nearly toe to toe with her. To her surprise he hadn’t changed back into his usual black yet but instead was staring down at her, his own face amused albeit focused on her from the neck down. Looking down she squealed in horror at the slave girl look he’d put her in, feeling the icy metal of the bikini pinching in the wrong places and a breeze coming up between her legs under the long maroon loincloth making her clench her legs tightly shut. “What kind of outfit did you put me in?!”

“Just a passing fancy I’d been thinking on.” He looked her up and down, amused at how she tried to cover herself. Lowering his hand he grabbed at a chain that appeared tethered to a collar around her neck and pulled her into his arms. “Something my father told me about but never really appreciated until now.”

“You’re a pervert.” She snapped, trying to push him away, very uncomfortable at just how warm his arms were in such a cold and skimpy outfit. “Let me go. NOW!”

“Maybe I should imagine you like this every time we meet. I’d enjoy our visits together so much better…” He chided, tugging on that metal leash just a breath more, bringing her lips almost to his. Those black pools he called eyes seemed bottomless at this proximity and that hand on her lower back seemed to be getting lower and lower.

“Ben, let me go!” She demanded, palms firmly on his chest, shifting her feet in readiness to kick him where it hurt.

“I told you to stop calling me that!” He snarled back, tugging the leash so hard it was starting to dig into the back of her neck and really hurt.

“Ben Ben Ben Ben Be-mph!” Her voice was cut off by his lips pressing against her own. Brown eyes went wide in surprise as he held her there, still dressed like his father and doing the one thing she never honestly expected him to do. He held her there, squirming, wiggling to get out and away from him until the wiggling subsided, those hands trying to push him away instead wrapped around his neck and tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, making the kiss deeper.

He turned her, backed them up against the wall where he pinned her with his body. When she whimpered from the cold of the metal wall he simply slipped his tongue into her mouth, blindsided her resistance. When he could feel her barriers crack he barreled through with a nuzzle to her throat, a lick to her pulse and very firm grip to her ass. He kissed at the pulse in her neck, letting her pull the vest from his person and untuck the shirt from his pants. She wrapped her legs around his waist like python, locking her ankles on the other side at the base of his spine while he pulled that thin linen layer away from her bottom half and wiggled a few choice fingers in just the right places.

Rey let out a cry, looking down their bodies, he could feel her barriers trying to rebuild, trying to push him away but he barreled through them, over them, until she was swept up in the same primal lust pulsing through his veins. He could see how her eyes glazed over with it, reveled in how she kissed him back with equal force as he’d given. Where was this coming from? Was all this pent up from somewhere deep within? Was this coming from him or her? Or both?

Oh who the fuck cares.

She moaned against his lips and he lost it, pulling at the workings of the front of his pants and letting his own body free of its confines. Within a single, well aimed thrust he was inside her and his whole body practically sang with pleasure. She pulled him in tighter, moved with him as they rutted against the wall. He braced a palm against the cold surface of the wall behind her and shifted the balance, burying deeper, egged on by her sounds, her moans, her voice calling him over and over.

Pulling the metal top from her body her stole a kiss from her breasts, making her arch, and grip at his head, everything a swirl of lust and pleasure until nothing else could get in. He moved up to nip at her ear, grinning a little as how she tugged at his hair and scrapped her nails across his scalp. When she was close he slowed, trying to keep her on the edge as long as possible despite her complaints until at last he came with her.

She screamed.

She came screaming HIS name.

He’d never forget that for as long as he lived.

The pleasure began is ebb and they looked at each other, off the wall and back in their original seats from across the room. He was leaning back in his chair, dressed in his usual black and dripping in sweat. She wasn’t much better off, pressed back against the bunk wall, as far away from him as she could physically get, legs still crossed and covering her mouth with her hands in horror.

What had they just done?!

“I told you not to call me Ben.” He reminded her flatly, the crook of his lips sliding up into a victorious smirk. “Although I must admit I liked it when you screamed it. Next time maybe I’ll just make you naked so we can get right down to business.”

“Get out.” She demanded, pulling her hand away from her mouth, pulling her legs up against her, wrapping her arms about herself in protection. “Get out of my head!!!”

He said, but simply stood and walked away, vanishing from her view, severing the connection with a victorious grin on his long, smug face. He left her to her thoughts, curled and rocking in place on her bunk trying to shake the feeling of her body impaled on his own. She gulped, trying to center her thoughts. Instead all she could see was him dressed like his father, leaning back in that same chair and twirling a blaster in his hand with that damned cocky smile of his. It hit her right between the legs and nearly ended her all over again.

Getting to her feet she looked at her reflection, noting the little red welts on her skin where from where he’s kissed over her neck and shoulders. Biting the inside of her cheek she pulled the new tunic from her cubby space and dawned it, making a face before pulling it free and tearing it in half and grabbing a needle and thread to rehem it. Putting it back on the bottom of the top half now barely covered the bottom half of her breasts, one good wind or any movement and she’d be exposed. She grinned just a bit to herself as she turned the rest into a short skirt, complete with slits on either side that were laced together just a hint too far apart to show a strip of pale flesh underneath.

“We’ll see who’s ready for who next time, Ben Solo.” She mumbled softly, cutting the final string with her teeth.

This means WAR!

~_~_~_~_~_~

  1. War is hell, but sexual war is so much more fun to write about. Hehehehehehehehehe.




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